أنا، والقَصيدةُ، والحَبيبةُ، والقَلَمْ

وصُداعُ يومٍ بالسّياسةِ والتَّحاوُرِ والأَلَمْ

Me, and the poem, and the beloved, and the pen

And a headache from a day of politics, debates and pain

وهُمُومُ عُمْرٍ مُزِّقَتْ أوقاتُه

بينَ التَّفاؤُلِ، والمخاوفِ، والنَّدَمْ

And the worries of a lifetime whose times are torn

Between optimism, fears, and regret

والهاتفُ المَلْعُونُ حيثُ أكونُ

يَتْبَعُني، ويَعْزِفُ كُلَّ ثانيةٍ رَقَمْ

And the cursed phone wherever I am

Follows me, and plays every second a number

هذا يَرِنُّ، وذي رسائِلُها تُعاتِبُ،

أو تُهَدِّدُ بالقَطِيعةِ والنَّدَمْ

This one rings, and hers, her messages reproach,

Or threaten with estrangement and regret

وأنا، وأُذنايَ اللَّتانِ

تُهَدِّداني بِالتَّجَمُّدِ والصَّمَمْ

And me, and my ears

Which threaten me with numbness and deafness

والقادمونَ معَ الصَّباحِ أَعُدُّهُمْ

خمسينَ مُحتارِينَ في خَمسينَ هَمّ

And those coming with the morning, I count them

Fifty confused in fifty worries

والجَدولُ الزَّمَنِيُّ في ساعاتِهِ

كم نَدْوَةٍ سأَرودُ، كم وَعْدٍ، وكمْ

And the timeline in its hours

How much dew will I dispense, how many promises, and how much

وجَميعُ أوراقي وكلُّ دفاتري

غَضْبى، تُعاتِبُني كَخِلٍّ مُتَّهَمْ

And all my papers and all my notebooks

My anger, reproaching me like a accused vinegar

فمتى ستَكْتُبُ ذا المَقالَ لناشرٍ؟

ومتى سَتُكمِلُ ذي القصيدةَ والنَّغَمْ؟

So when will you write this article for the publisher?

And when will you complete this poem and melody?

والزَّوجةُ الحَمقاءُ معظم وقتها

تبكي، وتَسْلَخُني عِتاباتٍ وذَمّْ

And the foolish wife most of her time

Cries, and flays me with reproaches and blame

وتَجُوسُ حولَ حِمى الرَّسائلِ

واتّصالاتِ النّواعمِ والتَّتَبُّعِ في نَهَمْ

And prowls around the fence of messages

And communications of coquettes and tracking in lust

ورسائلٌ عَتْبَى؛ لأنّكَ غِبتَ عن

سَفَرٍ لِمُؤتَمَرٍ، ولم تَحْضُرْ ولمْ

And reproachful messages; because you were absent from

A conference trip, and didn't attend and didn't

والطّالباتُ حديثَ وُدِّكَ ساعةً

مِائةٌ تُحَطِّمُهُنَّ أحزانُ السَّأَمْ

And the young female students, talk of your affection an hour

Hundreds whom the sorrows of boredom shatter

والعاشقاتُ حَدِيثكَ العَذْبَ الّذي

عَوَّدْتَهُنَّ عليه في حُزنٍ وغَمّْ

And the lovers, your sweet talk which

You accustomed them to in sorrow and worry

أين الحياةُ لشاعرٍ ولعاشقٍ

يَصِلُ الصَّباحَ إلى الصّباحِ ولم يَنَمْ؟

Where is the life for a poet and a lover

Who reaches the morning to morning and hasn't slept?

فمتى سَتَجْنَحُ لِلصَّبابةِ والهَوى؟!

ولأيِّ عينٍ تَنْتَشِي ولأيِّ فَمْ

So when will you incline to the youth and passion?!

And for which eye will you be lively and for which mouth